The Demon King Speaks
by ElwynWanderer
Summary: In the darkness, an offer was made that turned the greatest of friends into the deadliest of enemies. The story of Lyon and the Fire Emblem. FE8
1. Prologue

The Demon King Speaks

By ElwynWanderer

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Summary: In the darkness, an offer was made that turned the greatest of friends into the deadliest of enemies. The story of Lyon and the Fire Emblem. FE8

Disclaimer: If I owned Fire Emblem Lyon would not have turned to the dark side. And his story would have more development, yes?

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Prologue: Knoll's Tale

His execution is scheduled for tomorrow.

He sits motionless in his dungeon cell, a dark cloaked heap of a man, tortured in his heart because _he has failed_. He could have stopped his prince, could have saved Grado.

Or at least, that is what he tells himself.

But there is little he could have done, he sees now as he relives the past few years in his mind's eye. The chain of events began long before his research on Grado's Sacred Stone. _He_ did not set this in motion; what could he have done to prevent it?

He lifts his head as the prison guards' footsteps clatter down the passage to the cry of "To arms! To arms! The castle defenses have been breached!" As the dungeon door opens further down the hallway he can hear the faint sounds of battle and he knows that Prince Ephraim of Renais is in the fray. For a moment he thinks he hears two of Grado's finest - Duessel and Glen - in battle as well, but he is sure he is mistaken. Glen is dead, and Sir Duessel has been declared a traitor.

Then the moment is gone and the door swings shut. He is left alone with his thoughts…

…And regrets…


	2. Waiting All Day

Waiting All Day

Sometimes Lyon got very lonely being the heir to the Grado Empire. Yes, he adored his father, Emperor Vigarde, and would not trade him for the world. But he did not have many friends and spent many of his days by himself. So one can imagine his overwhelming excitement when he heard the news that his father's friend King Fado of Renais would be bringing his twin son and daughter to Grado for a visit. The possibility of making new friends thrilled the young prince.

The morning of the visit found Lyon in the Royal Gardens, pacing restlessly. He was a patient boy by nature, but that day there just seemed to be something under his skin that would not let him take his mind off his potential new friends, even though he knew pacing would not make their arrival any speedier and would only make him flustered and worn out in the process.

He sat down on a garden bench, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths. Father MacGregor would not want him to endanger his health and would encourage him to be calm. Calm. _Yes, see, this isn't too difficult,_ Lyon told himself. He opened the old, worn book he'd been studying as of late, but found he could not absorb any of it. He shook himself after a time and realized he had been looking at the same paragraph for five whole minutes without reading a single word.

He sighed. It was hopeless; he could do nothing but wait for the Prince and Princess of Renais to arrive.

The shadows on the garden's sundial crept inch by inch over the hours.

At last there was a noise as two children his age entered the garden. They did not see him at first, but instead walked out onto the path lined with rosebushes as they talked to each other, bickering playfully as siblings and close friends are wont to do. Lyon stood. "Oh, are you…"

The two turned to look at him. They were dressed too richly for commoners, yet their clothes were rather plain for nobles. Lyon liked that; it meant they did not flaunt their wealth or high stations. The boy looked tough, like the beginnings of a fine warrior or king. The girl was graceful and lean, clearly feminine, yet at the same time she looked like no pushover herself.

Lyon felt a twinge of self-doubt. These two were clearly very strong, while he had always been more of a scholar than a fighter. But he had to be brave; this was perhaps his only chance to make new friends, and it had to count. "I'm… My name is Lyon."

Recognition dawned in their eyes, and they nodded and smiled. "Ah, the Prince of Grado?" the girl said.

"Uh-huh. That's me… The son of the emperor. You're Prince Ephraim and Princess Eirika from Renais, aren't you? I heard you were coming, and I've been waiting here all day. I've always wanted…" He hesitated and took a deep breath before he stated his proposition. "I don't have any friends my own age… So, Prince Ephraim… Princess Eirika… What do you say? From now on, let's be friends."

He looked from one to the other, waiting in dread for some sign of disgust or contempt, but their smiles only became brighter. "Of course," they said.


	3. Research

Research

Dark-robed shamans flitted about the underground sanctuary of the Sacred Stone like so many bats in a windstorm. They scurried to and fro, taking readings and measurements, running errands, and delivering reports of massive consequence.

Throughout all this flurry of movement Prince Lyon stood still - transfixed as he felt the peerless force of Grado's Sacred Stone as it bent to his will. It actually obeyed him! True, it was really only the energy radiating from the stone and not the stone itself (he was not allowed access to the Sacred Stone's true power - yet), but even this energy was so great it made his head spin. He felt giddy with the raw strength coursing through him. _So this is how Ephraim feels when he holds a lance in his hand,_ Lyon thought. _This is what it feels like to be strong._

With this new power there were endless possibilities before him. He could cure Father's illness, help the citizens of Grado, save lives - why, if he and his research team could recreate this ancient spell, they might even be able to read the future!

Lyon turned to one of the shamans. "Any progress, Knoll?" he asked.

"Nothing yet, sire," Knoll said as he consulted a report. "Much of the ritual has been lost to time, and the details we've managed to unearth are…disquieting, to say the least."

"Nevertheless, we must press on with our research," Lyon said firmly. "There has to be a way to harness the stones energy to -"

A commotion at the sanctuary's entrance drowned out Lyon's voice. "My prince, I must speak with you!" a shaman panted as she stumbled through her colleagues to Lyon and Knoll.

"Of course," said Lyon as the shaman caught her breath. "What is your name?"

"Ursula, milord. I bring word of a terrible fire in Serafew. Many citizens were injured, but the healers are treating their wounds and so far there have been no casualties. Except…"

"Yes, yes?" said Lyon.

"There is one child, sire. Her burns are terrible. Not even Heal staves can save her."

"How do you know this?" asked Knoll.

"I was there," Ursula explained. "I saw the houses consumed by fire, the…the _screams_…" She shuddered. "Fortunately General Glen was there to help put out the fire, and he agreed to take the child and me here to the capital. I thought that, if Serafew's healers couldn't save her, perhaps - if you'll forgive me sire - perhaps you could?"

"You brought the child _here_?" said Knoll.

Lyon's breath caught. A plethora of emotions surged beneath his wide eyes and parted lips. In his mind he could almost see the little girl, severely burned, the life rapidly leaving her. The excitement and anxiety were rising; he fought to calm himself as Father MacGregor had taught him, before he became flushed and faint. He would be of no use to his people in that condition. "Ursula, take me to the child, quickly," he said. "This is our chance, Knoll. If we can use the Sacred Stone's power, perhaps we can save a life!"

Ursula led Lyon and Knoll out of the sanctuary, up and up the long staircase to Grado Keep, and then into a room where Father MacGregor and four of Grado's best healers stood over the child in a worried cluster, their voices high and agitated. General Glen stood a little off to the side. The child herself lay unmoving on the bed.

"Sir Cormag has just arrived with the mother."

"Is the Mend staff ineffectual as well?"

"Move aside! His Highness Prince Lyon is here."

And then Lyon was at the child's bedside. The burns were worse than he'd imagined - but then again, he had never seen a very serious burn in person before. The charred black and red flesh extended from the right side of her face down her neck and over her chest to her abdomen. Some of her hair had been singed off. Her chest barely rose and fell with her faint, labored breathing. Lyon tentatively took her hand in his own.

The prince's voice quavered as he drew on the power the Sacred Stone had given him, begging for her to be well, to live, _to live_. The new strength coursed through him and into her. He heard gasps, but he could not take his eyes from the child's still form. She seemed to glow with an internal light; the blackness that marred her skin began to fade, her body to knit itself back together.

She now breathed deeply.

Then her eyes abruptly snapped open, and Lyon let go of her hand as she cried, "Mommy!" and launched herself into the waiting arms of a woman who must have arrived during the healing.

"Oh, my darling, I was so worried!" the mother cried, face alight with joy. She embraced the child tightly and sobbed into her hair, sobbed tears of happiness, such happiness, now that her daughter's life was restored.

Lyon beamed. Ursula, General Glen, and Sir Cormag (who had arrived with the mother) looked overjoyed, and even the ever-serious Knoll had a small smile on his face. But Father MacGregor was not pleased. As he met Lyon's eyes, his face set into grim, stern lines and his body went rigid with disapproval. He did not think it right to use the power of the Sacred Stone, not even to heal an innocent child.

Lyon closed his eyes briefly and turned away. Someday Father MacGregor would see how much Lyon's research benefited the people of Grado. Someday he would approve.


	4. Her Sword Arm

Her Sword Arm

Gone were Lyon's long flowing robes, replaced by light armor that would not restrict his movement, and in his hand he held not a beloved and well-read tome, but a practice foil. Across the sparring field Eirika waited as Lyon struggled to get his bearings. Serene and beautiful, perfectly at ease with a sword in hand, the princess of Renais called, "Are you ready, Lyon?"

"Yes," he managed, cautiously lifting his sword.

She nodded. "Begin!"

And, oh, she was gorgeous when she charged.

Her sword was everywhere, her movements full of such grace and dignity, and also such power, her lithe, fluid dance, the lethal accuracy of her sword arm… Lyon took several hasty steps back and tried to strike, but she batted his sword away like it was nothing and hit his now unprotected chest.

"Touché!" she said with a little smile.

She lunged again, and Lyon could not think to block it properly. Instead he scrambled backward, waving his sword frantically as though the wind it created could disarm Eirika. But like a dream she seemed to simply melt away, and then Lyon felt the tip of her sword nudge his back. "Touché," she said again from behind.

Lyon turned to face her with a defeated sigh, lowering his sword. "I yield. The point is yours, Eirika." He sighed again. "Pitiful crown prince, am I not?"

Eirika shook her head, looking at him with those warm, earnest blue eyes. "That's not true…"

"Oh, no, Eirika. It is," Lyon insisted unhappily. "The people need a strong ruler, not a weakling like me. My body is frail. I… I think my father would be better served if someone else took my place." He didn't even know what he was saying anymore, he just poured his heart out to her, couldn't stop himself, not when those eyes were trained on him alone. And he could hope beyond hope, if only for a short while, that Eirika looked at him that way out of more than just friendship.

Now she spoke with eyes blazing with blue fire. "You're wrong, Lyon," she said. "An emperor without compassion will never hold the people's love. And one day, your compassion will surely save us all. I believe that."

Lyon faltered, eyes wide. Her words took his breath away with their magic. They were a balm that made all of his worries disappear. They exalted him, so that his mountain of insecurities became merely a pebble in the road. "Eirika…Thank you," he breathed.

And she looked at him with those blue eyes of flame, and he could not tear his gaze away. He hungered for her eyes, needed to see into them. Because when she looked at him like that, he knew…

She believed in him.


	5. Sun Standard

Sun Standard

"…Then the great warrior Siegmund, with his mighty fire lance, held the Demon King immobile while pious Saint Latona performed the final spell. And so the hero Grado and his companions used the five Sacred Stones to seal away the evil of the Demon King, and his wicked soul was locked within the Stone of Grado. The Stone of Grado came to be known as the Fire Emblem; to this day, it's kept safe and honored as a national treasure of the empire." Lyon glanced up from the history book at Ephraim, who sat slouched across the table from him and looked absolutely bored to tears. Lyon sighed and closed the heavy tome. "I think that's about it. For more on Grado's life, read _Founding Emperor Grado_. It's comprehensive." He gestured to another book in the pile.

His arm movement seemed to rouse Ephraim from his stupor, for he straightened in his chair with a start and looked in horror at the book identified as _Founding Emperor Grado_. "It's so thick…and the letters are so small…"

"But you have to read it," Lyon said. "You don't want Father MacGregor to discipline you again."

Ephraim groaned and slouched again. "I'm no good with books. The problem is they don't move. I get bored silly. I understand so much better when you explain it to me, Lyon."

"Yes, but...it's kind of weird to be helping you all the time. It's just that I admire you, Ephraim. I want to be strong, like you - brave and handsome…" Lyon trailed off, thinking of all the time the twins of Renais spent together, while he only got to spend a few hours a day with them, and then only when they were visiting. Would Eirika be more eager to spend time with him, he wondered, if he were as noble and courageous as her brother? He glanced at Ephraim to gauge his reaction, but the prince of Renais was only half-listening. Lyon shook himself to dispel his thoughts. "I've got an idea," he said brightly. "Why don't you teach me to wield a lance, Ephraim? I can't let my defeat to Eirika go unchallenged. I look foolish."

Now that the subject had returned to activities that required physical movement Ephraim was on full alert. He grinned. "It's a deal. We practice tomorrow."

Lyon nodded, his thoughts already buzzing. If he mastered the lance would Eirika admire him, as he always hoped she someday would? Could he possibly live up to the standard everyone had set for the Prince of Grado?

Loving Eirika was easy, for it was like gazing at the moon and the stars. The beautiful silvery glow that washed over a velvety sky - he could look endlessly up at a sight like that, and the only difficulty was that the moon and stars were always so heartbreakingly out of reach.

But looking at Ephraim - and the standard for royalty that he embodied - was looking into the sun itself. Reality was harsh. You could love the sun as dearly as you loved your own brother, but to aspire to _be_ the sun, to have to look it in the eye every single day and know that this, _this_ is what Grado wanted you to become… No. The standard was simply too high. Lyon would go blind before he ever became the sun.

"Just go easy on me, all right?" he said.


	6. Quiet Moments

Quiet Moments

"Lyon? My son, is that you?"

His father's voice was weak - too weak. For a second he could only stare at the bedridden man who had once been so strong, feeling small and frightened like a child. How could the sickness have such a devastating effect on the Emperor of Grado, Lyon wondered.

Then he steadied himself. Now _he_ had to be strong for Father, at least until the sickness ran its course and Father was well again. "Yes, it's me, Father," he said gently as he sat at the Emperor's bedside. "The healers say you are at the turning point. That means if you are at the worst of it now you can only get better as you recover." Lyon did not mention the other possibility - that Emperor Vigarde could lose the struggle to his illness.

But that would not happen. Lyon would not allow it to happen. He was so weak; without Father's strength what else was there to hold him upright?

"Lyon, do not worry," Father said quietly, somehow knowing his son's troubled, turbulent thoughts. He always knew. "Tell me, how is my old friend King Fado, and his children?"

"They are doing wonderfully, Father. Eirika is learning swordplay, did I tell you? Her technique is truly awe-inspiring. You should see the way she strikes, Father, just like lightning!"

Emperor Vigarde smiled faintly. "And how is Ephraim? He is still studying under General Duessel, yes?"

"Yes, Father." Lyon looked down at his hands. Why did his father have to mention Ephraim, a constant example of what a prince should be - yet Lyon was not? "He, too, has the makings of a fine warrior."

"Just like King Fado." Vigarde began to chuckle, but it quickly morphed into a fit of coughs.

"Hold on a moment, I'll call for Father MacGregor," Lyon said anxiously, stumbling to his feet. Fortunately Father MacGregor was waiting just outside the Emperor's bedchamber, and in less than two minutes Vigarde's coughs had subsided.

All was well again…at least for now.


	7. Great Discovery

Great Discovery

"We did it! Sire, we have completed the ritual!"

Lyon's eyes swept over his beaming team of eager researchers, and over the symbols chalked into the ground of the Sacred Stone's Sanctuary, the drops of blood meticulously measured for the required tribute. "You have?" He stood hastily.

"Yes, sire," said Knoll. "We are ready to proceed with the Time Shear at your command."

Lyon nodded. "Very well. Begin."

Visions flooded into his mind:

_The great southern sea._

_Dark clouds. A ship. Churning waters._

_A young sailor, eyes fearful, but jaw clenched bravely._

_The ship's mast, broken off._

_A woman coming to the deck from below. Her hat flying, sailing away on the air._

_The waves, now splashing onto the deck._

_The woman lifting her skirts out of the water._

_The rain. The claps of thunder._

_A giant wave. The woman's scream. A curse from one sailor, a prayer from another._

_Silence._

When Lyon came back into himself he was breathing heavily, his eyes were watering, and his head pounded. The shamans were very still and very quiet; they, too, were thinking of what they had seen. The room was as silent as the vision.

And then Ursula broke the silence. "We have saved countless lives," she said, as though she could not quite believe it. "Those people in the vision need not die, now!"

Suddenly all of Grado's Royal Shamans were cheering and clapping each other on the back and exclaiming, "We did it! We can read the future to save lives! All that research has paid off!" Prince Lyon did not celebrate with the rest of his research team, but he was perhaps happiest of all.

He had finally, _finally_, done something to help his people.


	8. Desperation

Desperation

The celebrations of Lyon's research team were scarcely a month old when a new discovery was made and the shamans launched themselves into a long, frenzied, and so far fruitless search. And the more they looked for answers, the harder it was to bear.

_Grado will be ravaged by catastrophe._

_The earth will crumble._

_Countless will die._

_Grado will be destroyed._

After all, there were only so many times a man could watch his people die silent deaths in one week before he went mad.

"STOP!" Lyon cried out to the dimly lit Sanctuary, clutching his head as though to squeeze the vision from his mind. He could not bear to see his country destroyed, not again. There were no answers to be found in the vision anyway; he and his shamans had seen it enough times to be quite sure of that.

The research team had discovered scrolls to prevent disasters, but those were all but useless - no human could hold the dark energy required, surely - and the vision itself held no clues for the shamans, nor could they ascertain the whereabouts of the disaster, and no matter what they tried, the vision would not change.

Lyon had felt helpless more than his share of times, but _this_…

The prince bowed his head as his shamans closed the Time Shear. "That's all for today," he began to say, but before he could dismiss his shamans Father MacGregor hurried into the room, and Lyon's mouth closed with a snap. Father MacGregor _never_ came down to the Sanctuary while the research team was there. And as he edged around the bloodstained ritual circles draw on the floor, a look of outrage and disgust on his lined face, it was clear he had not come willingly.

"Prince Lyon," Father MacGregor said stiffly, "the emperor your father wishes to see you and your most trusted shaman. His Majesty says it is of the utmost importance."

_Utmost importance?_ Lyon wondered at the wording and felt himself begin to sweat. "Er, yes, of course," he said. "Knoll, would you come with me, please?"

As the small group headed up the stairs and through the corridors to Vigarde's bedchambers, Lyon's mind was racing. What did it mean? What could be so important that Vigarde felt the need to share it with _him_, his weakling son, while he was so ill? Surely his advisors would be more suited for the job?

Then they reached the bedchambers, and as the two shamans cautiously entered, Emperor Vigarde began to cough violently. Lyon left Knoll at the door to rush to his father's side. "Hold on," he said anxiously. "You'll be all right in a moment. Just… hold on. Please."

Moments passed, and when Vigarde's coughs subsided he looked up at Lyon with the hint of a smile of his lips. His eyes, however, held no trace of humor. "My son," he said, "this is the end for me."

Lyon's heart seemed almost to stop. "What?" he gasped. "No… No, don't say that, Father! You'll get better, Father, you will! It'll be okay, I promise…"

Vigarde gave the prince a look that brought his anxious babbling to a halt. "You must concern yourself with Grado," the emperor said sternly. "Our people must be saved."

"But how?" asked Lyon. "What should I do? I don't… I can't do all that on my own. No one else even knows about the disaster except for you and my research team. Please tell me, Father, What should I - ?"

Suddenly Vigarde seized Lyon's wrist with a pale, waxy hand. His grip was as strong as steel, making Lyon gasp in startled pain. The emperor spoke earnestly, harshly: "Lyon, when I die you will be emperor. The emperor must protect his country. There is nothing more that I can do. It's you… You must protect our people. They are counting on you. Do you understand, Lyon? Tell me you understand!"

"Y-yes, Father, I understand," Lyon squeaked.

Vigarde's grip slackened and his sunken eyes closed. "Good," he said quietly. "Good."

"Father?!" Lyon was now the one clinging onto Vigarde's hand. The emperor was not breathing. "No… Wait! I cannot do anything without you, Father! I don't know how… I…" His vision blurred with tears, and he choked a little on a sob. "Fa…Father…"

_You can't be dead. What of Grado?_

_What of me?_

Lyon blinked rapidly to dislodge the tears. He made no move to wipe them, for that would require the use of his hands, which would force him to release his father's hand. And he could not bear to do such a thing, not now. He was weak, and because he was weak, his people would die. What could he do? He did not have the power to rule an empire or save a people; the only time he had ever accomplished anything was with the Sacred Stone, when he had healed the little girl on the edge of death…

…

If the Sacred Stone could do that, surely it could heal his father. It could stop the upcoming disaster, according to the ancient scrolls. All Lyon needed was power, and the Sacred Stone had power.

He stood and let Vigarde's hand drop. With the Warp spell at his command, transporting himself and Knoll to the Stone's Sanctuary was a simple matter. In moments he stood before the magic seal that guarded the stone.

"Prince Lyon…?"

He turned. There was Knoll, his eyes red and swollen from his own quiet grief for their departed ruler. He did not understand Lyon's actions, but why should he? He was like Father MacGregor and all the others. But he would understand in time.

"Open the Seal on the Sacred Stone of Grado," Lyon commanded.

"The Sacred Stone? But that's…"

"You've seen the scrolls and the rites they describe," the prince interrupted impatiently. "They can save all of Grado, but only with unimaginable amounts of dark energy - and of all the Sacred Stones, Grado's alone could do the job. If we could harness its power, we could avert disaster and save countless lives."

"But you forget - "

"I forget nothing!" Lyon shouted, whirling completely to face him. "I _know_ I am too weak. Because of me all of Grado will be destroyed." He laughed raggedly. "Don't you see? I need the Sacred Stone to become stronger. I _must_ become stronger, Knoll. Open the seal."

Well, what could Knoll do? Slowly he moved forward to the Stone's seal, very slowly, reaching out until his fingertips brushed the symbols, written with parchment and ink a millennium old. And the barrier fell away, and Lyon darted forward to seize the Stone. He cried out in triumph as the power coursed through him.

Then all went black.


	9. Voice From the Darkness

Voice From the Darkness

Lyon found himself blind and naked in a chilling void - and he couldn't tell whether the cold was truly the temperature of the air around him, or if it, like his nakedness, was merely an illusion, an astral representation within his own head.

He shivered. The darkness was so deep, so absolute, and so much more malevolent than Lyon had ever felt before. There was madness crawling on his skin like a thousand insects, but he felt there was infinitely more, a whole flood of that madness waiting in the dark to sweep him and everything else away - held back only by the hard, calculating logic of an unpredictable genius.

He realized - too late - that he had been a fool to reach for the power of the Fire Emblem. It was not a power for mortals. It was a mix of the divine and the demonic; what man could be so powerful as to endure both?

Lyon was desperately trying to figure out how to make up for this terrible blunder, when a voice began to speak.

**So you are the weakling boy who is always trying to harness my power. Others have tried before, but none have dared to hold the Stone since Grado sealed it away.**

Lyon flinched as the voice reverberated through his mind and through the infinite, malevolent void filled with madness.

**Heh… Grado may have been a meat-headed dolt, but he was strong enough to resist me - or rather, he was too stupid for a corrupt thought to occur to him. But you have an intelligent mind. You may be of some use to me.**

"You…" Lyon's voice was an unsteady squeak. "You are the Demon King, aren't you?"

In the darkness the voice cackled. **It seems some of your pitiful race of mortals still remember their dread of Fomortiis, after all. For the long years of my imprisonment I thought perhaps they had forgotten, that time had coaxed even that detail from their decaying memories.**

"We do not need to fear you any longer, Demon King," Lyon said, trying to make his voice sound brave. "You are powerless within the prison of the Fire Emblem."

Fomortiis gave a shriek of mad laughter that made Lyon's head throb. **Powerless? Powerless? Yes, for the past eight hundred years I have been powerless. I am powerless even now. But soon, soon, I will be free again.**

Free again? Lyon jerked in alarm. He was terrified, yes, but he was no fool. "How?" he demanded.

The voice was softer when it responded. **You will have to forgive this old demon his fits of madness. Had you been trapped in a rock for as long as I have, you'd feel the same as I. But we are not here to discuss my past. You took the Stone's power because you wanted something, did you not?**

Lyon frowned at the change in Fomortiis' voice. "Since when do demons offer gifts to those who summon them?" he asked suspiciously.

**I do not offer gifts, weakling,** said Fomortiis, **not to pampered palace brats like you, so afraid of life, afraid even of their own shadows. And what is this?** Lyon felt a strange pressure on his skull, as though something were stretching it out for inspection. The Demon King began to laugh. **You are now Emperor of Grado, last of the Hero's bloodline! A poor pathetic whelp, the ruler of a doomed empire? How amusing mortals are.**

Lyon felt his cheeks burn at the humiliating reminder. But of course, how like a demon to know precisely what and how to mock. "I do not care for your insults," the prince said frigidly. "You forget you are still prisoner within the Sacred Stone, and your situation is not likely to improve in the near future." As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wondered what had come over him. He could hardly believe his daring.

**Gentle as a lamb, aren't you?** The voice cackled. It didn't seem insulted; on the contrary, it seemed to delight in Lyon's unexpected bravery. **Perhaps you are not as much of a sniveling fool as I first believed. Perhaps you could even amount to something if that pup from Renais weren't always in your way.**

"Ephraim?" said Lyon in surprise.

**Ah, is that his name? A handsome name for a handsome boy, I presume.** Lyon blushed hotly at this. **Tell me, does it hurt, knowing that your recently departed father looked at that boy and wished him for a son instead of you? Knowing that all women swoon at the sight of him? That he is the favored pupil of one of Grado's Imperial Three? **For only a few moments the black void became silent as the voice of Fomortiis seemed to ponder its own jeering questions. Then it said, **How does it feel, Emperor of Grado, knowing that Ephraim will always have a stronger claim on Eirika's heart than you ever will?**

"Stop it!" Lyon cried. He thrashed around wildly to escape the descending madness, the eternal void. He did not want to hear these words against his friends - words that were far too close to the truth. But Fomortiis only laughed at his struggles.

**In eight hundred years your kind has not changed at all. You fight against me, seeking to blame me for your own problems.**

"You keep me here against my will and fling accusations at me!" Lyon retorted, voice rising to a wail.

**That is the price you pay for dealing with powers beyond your understanding, weakling!** The voice was suddenly sharp, impatient. **Now stop flailing about like a newborn mauthe doog and show a backbone as befits a descendant of Grado.**

Lyon gradually became still, muffling his sobs and taking deep, shuddering breaths until he was calm again. In the silence, he remembered why he was here. "I want the Fire Emblem's power to save Grado," he said.

**I know,** said the voice of Fomortiis. **You have been pushing and prodding at my prison for years; did you imagine I would not know of your purpose by now?**

"Well, then, stand aside and let me access it."

**It is not that easy, little Emperor. You know the price for your people's safety.**

Lyon clenched his teeth. "I am here for the power of the Fire Emblem. If there is some reason that I cannot access that power, tell me what it is."

And Fomortiis said, **Your father is no longer of your world. Even with the Sacred Stone's strength to call upon, you still can do nothing. You could save that girl from Serafew, but you could not save the people who mattered.**

Lyon recoiled as though he had been struck, but he didn't answer.

But in the darkness he felt madness crawling on his skin, and he asked himself why: Why did he have to accept the responsibility of Emperor, of the lives of all his people? Why was he eternally in Ephraim's shadow? Why could Eirika never look at him with more than sisterly affection?

And

When did all this become so hard?

**You know the price for your people's safety,** Fomortiis said again, and this time Lyon understood. He began to tremble – with anger, joy, fear…he did not know. But here at last was his answer.

"What must I do?" he asked the darkness.


	10. The Cost of Wishes

The Cost of Wishes

Lyon's breathing was calm as the dark stone resting in his cupped hands began to glow and pulse with energy over the still form of Emperor Vigarde. Searing heat swirled around the prince and his father's corpse while the impossibly cold surface of the stone formed hoarfrost on Lyon's shaky fingers. Vigarde's eyelids were trembling, as though searching for the strength to open.

And someone was calling the prince's name.

Lyon turned and met the person's eyes. In a voice not entirely his own, he said, "Oh, hello, it's you… What was your name again?" His mind was an emptiness – had been ever since he'd begun the ritual to return his father to life. Each thought to enter his mind was slow and took great effort, and if Lyon could piece together his feelings he would have thought it a wonder that he could speak at all.

Then his mouth opened, and he was speaking again. "Ah, yes, Knoll. You're one of my researchers." His lips twisted into a smile. "I've glad tidings for you," his mouth said. "My father is back."

As if the Emperor had heard him, Vigarde's eyelids began to twitch and flutter, and this time Lyon had enough clarity of thought to speak of his own volition. "Father," he urged breathlessly, "open your eyes!"

But when Vigarde did so, Lyon could feel nothing – no joy, no relief. The fog swirled and tightened like a noose in his mind. "This?" his voice said, perhaps in response to a question Knoll had asked. "This is the Dark Stone. It bears even more power than any Sacred Stone." Was he imagining the greed in his voice? "I extracted and condensed all of the magic bound within the Fire Emblem, and it gave my father back the spark of life."

His eyes moved to Knoll's once more, and his clouded mind struggled to identify the expression on that face as his unoccupied hand withdrew the remainder of the Fire Emblem from his robes. He crushed it easily, despite Knoll's protests, as Lyon continued to speak of the power of the Dark Stone.

_Horror,_ Lyon finally thought. The expression was horror.


End file.
